The Liberation Chronicles
by HistoryintheMaking
Summary: I'm setting all of you free.
1. Chapter 1

The Liberation Chronicles  
by HistoryintheMaking

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**- Chapter 1: Rosalie -**

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Rosalie bent down to press her hands into the cool water of a puddle formed at the foot of a tree. With pursed-lips, she examined the skin beneath the liquid and wished it were not hers. Her fingers were graceful, yes, and there was barely a wrinkle in her skin. Her nails, manicured to a perfect semi-oval shape, were clean and ideal. But yet all that she could see was that skin; that white, pale, blank canvas beneath the shallow waters. Her skin made Rosalie feel too open... vulnerable?

Vulnerable. That word, she hated it. It made her feel weak, but she was. She felt helpless in this body, this tormenting structure; frozen in the body _he_ touched, the one _he_ ruined.

"Even in the middle of nowhere, you find yourself a mirror," said a male voice. Edward. How typical. A day would seem nearly surreal without his side comments.

"What do you want?" she spat.

"Alice and I are finished," he said. She turned around to see him wiping the corner of his mouth with his finger. "Maybe you should think about finishing up too, instead of looking at yourself." And just as quickly as he came, Edward sped off into the other direction. Probably to find Alice. Those two were glued to each other at the hip. Rosalie wondered where on earth Bella would fit in between the two.

Rosalie punched the water, and ran to catch up with them.

******-:-**

At home, Rosalie looked at herself again but found no comfort in her beauty. Her nose was too thin and her forehead too wide. She turned to the side and flashed a seductive over-the-shoulder smile, but it did not please her. New flaws with her body continued to show up every day. Would there ever be a moment of peace?

No. The answer to that was no. She will never feel happy in this damaged body.

Rosalie broke the mirror.

**-:-**

Rosalie tried on every piece of clothing in her closet, but nothing looked right. Her clothes to her were unflattering; her body in them detestable. She pinched the sides of her hip, the sides of her thighs, and sides of her arms, grabbing on to the "fat" that lay beneath the skin. _Look at you_, she thought to herself. _You're hideous._

Rosalie threw her wardrobe into the hallway.

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Running. Fast, and hard. She pushed the limits of the forest until they could not hold her in anymore. She broke free, running alongside the highway's forest and almost flying. She lept over boulders, used trunks as springboards and stretched her legs as far as they could. She was running away from that house, from those clothes, from those people who, although she loved, could never understand the unhappiness she felt.

Fleeing, yes. She was fleeing. She was burying that Rosalie, that broken and unhappy woman, and was reaching for a new one; the one who, with each stretch of her legs, seemed to slowly trickle into her system; this powerhouse. She broke out into a laugh. Half crazy, she was, but she laughed.

Liberation. The feeling was beautiful.

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A/N: I hope you like it. I haven't been writing for a very long time, so I'm incredibly rusty. I'll be doing this for most of the characters in Twilight. Tell me what you think?


	2. Chapter 2

The Liberation Chronicles  
by HistoryintheMaking

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**- Chapter 2: Bella -**

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Bella Swan lifted a large pot of jerk chicken out from the kitchen oven. The bird glistening in its new golden brown coat, she lifted it from the pot and into a flat serving dish, and moved on to chopping veggies on a ceramic cutting board. Tonight, she would be home alone with Charlie, and tonight she needed to talk with him.

It was this father-daughter fishing trip he arranged since they "hadn't had one in a while now" and "Harry and his kid will meet up with [them] later." It wasn't that she was opposed to spending time with her father or anything, she rarely did say more than five sentences to him, it was just that--

"Dammit!" she cried out. Her finger began to bleed from the sharp slip of her knife. Bella ran to the sink and opened the faucet, and the water stung a bit as she washed her cut. Things like this always happened to her, and it was incredibly annoying. A cut there, a bruise here, she was so easily broken that she felt so helpless. She reached for the band-aids in the kitchen junk drawer and fastened one on to her finger.

-- she wanted to practice saying no. Stupid, right? She knew that was really stupid, but honestly she needed to start saying "no" more often. Often she felt like everyone was just pulling at her, telling her what to do or how to behave or whatever. Most of the time it was, "Bella you shouldn't do this," or "Bella, why are you being so careless?" or "Bella, you need to get your priorities straight." Sometimes she would hear, "If you only dressed better," from Alice or "Confidence Bella, you just need confidence."

Edward kept on telling her how she shouldn't want to be a vampire, as if he had any right to tell her what she should and should not want. It seemed as though everyone knew what was best for Bella's life except for Bella.

She knew it was a lame way to start practicing self-control, but it was the only thing she could think of that wouldn't have any severe consequences. What would saying, "No thanks!" to a fishing trip cause, you know? It'd be a harmless little baby step to being a bit more... in control of her life.

_Control_. That word was so distant to her. Usually she'd shy away from it, but now she was getting braver.

-:-

"So," she said to Charlie. She sat in the couch opposite of Charlie, who was busy shoveling steamed veggies in the reclining chair. The T.V. bellowed sports-speak from Sports Center, another language in her mind, while sweaty over-fed mammoths pummeled each other. Usually Charlie took his meals in front of the t.v., since he got home at around eight at night. And most of the time, Bella was over at Edward's place hanging out with the gang.

"So." he said in reply.

"How was work?" Small talk wasn't really her thing. Rarely did she ever ask the questions willingly, unless they were to fill the empty space that was her house.

Charlie dropped his fork. "You're not pregnant, are you?"

"What?! Char-- Dad, come on," she said.

"Well... somethin' the matter. You seem kinda stiff." He took his knife and started to cut apart his chicken, "And besides," he said to her, " I can't eat carrots with people starin' at me."

"Right. Sorry." she said. "Well... there's something I want to talk to you about. It's about this weekend."

"We're fishin' this weekend. Clearwater's bringin' his kids and they're around your age."

"Yeah, I know. It's just that... I'm not really in the mood for fishing this weekend."

His face fell considerably and his chewing slowed down. "I see."

"It's not that I don't want to hang out this weekend, but I... uh... I'm planning on just relaxing. I need some... me time."

She watched him carefully, seeing him digest the fact that she wanted to be alone. She knew he was looking forward to this, and she felt a bit selfish for preying on Charlie like that. Bella wanted to take it all back; maybe even end the silence with a "Psych! good one, right? Hah hah." But she reminded herself of what her mission was. Self-liberation. Bella needed to start living for herself and not for anyone else.

"Huh," he grunted finally. And then, to her suprise, Charlie weakly smiled. "I guess I can't blame yah. Fishin's not for the weak."

She laughed, shaking her head at him, and got up from the couch. She walked over to her father and kissed his cheek. "I love you dad," she said to him. They didn't usually exchange affections like this, but Bella felt the need to. It just seemed right. He blushed a bit and said, "Yeah, you too kid," but went on eating. Charlie wasn't one for showing affection, but he certainly appreciated the kiss on the cheek. In fact, he loved it.

As she climbed the stair case feeling victorious she shouted to her father, "Bring it next weekend, old man!"

Self-liberation. Mission accomplished.

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Okay, this one is in DEFINITE need of critique. I sort of fluked out on the ending. I wish it were a better, maybe even stronger ending. Suggestions?


End file.
